If you are one of those people who don’t go to Dens Park because you think life is too short and your time can be more wisely spent, you would have had some unlikely adherents in the Bobby Cox Stand on Friday night.
It was half-time and at that point Dundee were 4-0 down. We were playing Aberdeen. Well, no, we were supposed to be playing Aberdeen.
I know that because it said so in The Courier on Friday morning and in the fixture list, match programme and on the Tannoy before the game.
And both Dundee and Aberdeen walked out on to the pitch together, shook hands, lined up, Dundee kicked off and then stopped playing Aberdeen altogether, as a result of which we were 4-0 down before half-time.
It was noticeable that the Bobby Cox stand was already substantially less full than it had been at kick-off. I am choosing my words carefully here – “less full”, not “emptier”. I am a “glass less full” kind of supporter, not a “glass more empty” kind.
The thing is, you can only call yourself a supporter if you are in the ground supporting.
One of the pitch-side television cameras in front of the Bobby Cox Stand seemed to be turned towards the departing, abuse-hurling spectators more often than it was following the play.
I would not want to be caught on camera walking out of Dens Park half way through the game. For one thing, my father would have been horrified. For another, supporters don’t walk out.
It is customary for the Tannoy to announce the attendance towards the end of the match and to thank everyone for their support. We, the spontaneous cabal, looked around at the emptying seats of the Bobby Cox Stand. One of our number said: “They’ll have to announce two attendance figures, the one for the start and what’s left at the end.”
In time, they announced only one attendance figure, seven thousand and something, including two thousand and something Aberdeen supporters. And they thanked us for our support.
I suppose there is no mechanism for counting the crowd at the end but I would estimate three thousand and something, including two thousand and something Aberdeen supporters.
The cabal considered various topics, including moving to a new stadium. We looked around again at the newly emptied seats in the Bobby Cox Stand.
“We should move to a smaller stadium.”
“We could ground-share. With Lochee United.”
As the game progressed… I’ll try that again… As the game regressed from 4-0 through 5-0 and 6-0 to 7-0, there was some speculation in the Bobby Cox Stand about how they would get round the problem of choosing the man of the match. Every game, someone chooses a man of the match for the home side, win, lose or draw and his name is announced over the Tannoy.
But that pre-supposes the Dundee team on the pitch was actually playing.
Behind the scenes, an understanding had obviously been reached, for no man of the match was announced.
I used to walk to the games. Now I make a round trip of about 110 miles.
I don’t mind, I enjoy the drive, I look forward to every game. I love being in Dens Park. It connects me in the most fundamental way with my father, my grandfather (new readers start here: he was the goalkeeper when Dundee won the Scottish Cup in 1910) and the people I grew up with. I don’t have any family left in Dundee but I do have this connection.
My story is nothing remarkable, there are thousands with similar stories, with a lifetime of supporting behind and in front of them.
We all have our favourite memories, our favourite players. One of mine was Bobby Cox, arguably the best captain we ever had. He was a wee guy with a heart the size of the Law Hill.
Driving back on Friday, I wondered how many of that team that took the field but didn’t play against Aberdeen knew who Bobby Cox was, or why he has a stand named after him; how many stopped to think about why some of us were still sitting there at the end of the game, 7-0 down, still supporting.
Aberdeen, incidentally, were superb. It is a matter of great regret to the supporters who were still in the Bobby Cox stand at the end that they didn’t have anyone to play against.